Numb
by TheAga13
Summary: A nurse is always able to see past the patients' shells of illness and truly perceive human beings inside... Rated T for cursing.


**Hi there!**

**Trust me, I wanted to publish this earlier, MUCH earlier, but I had no time nor will to finish it :) But now it's complete, so enjoy a story about Percy and his guardian angel.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "The Green Mile" (I mean both movie and book). I don't own Percy, either. Just the girl and this story itself is mine.**

Saturday morning. Most normally working people were sleeping peacefully, hidden beneath the quilt, with head on the pillow and shut eyes. Yet, the personnel of Briar Ridge Mental Hospital had already been on their feet for several long hours, just as residents of this asylum. Each one of the employees had a duty to take care of all patients from the sun-up, making sure they wouldn't hurt themselves or others. In some cases, they had to make sure the patient woke up at all.

On every corridor of the building, there were people in white smocks, mooching around the complex with one single objective: ensuring that this circus was still functioning without any problems, and that they could hole up in one of many offices and wait until the end of the shift.

Among them, there was a woman; the only one who seemed to actually do something necessary. She was carrying a tray with a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of milk. There was a small vase with a single orange Gerbera on it, too. She was hurrying to look after her patient, who had already awaken for certain. Her curly disheveled hair were fluttering as she double-checked she had the right keys, paying attention not to spill anything from the platter, and finally stopped in front of big, massive door. Ruth Walker licked her chops and entered the room, closing the door behind her.

The woman took a look around the place and breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that nothing had changed since her last visit here. The table with two chairs on both sides of it wasn't upside down and the bed had signs of someone sleeping in it. It was empty, though. Its occupant was sitting on the armchair, staring through the big window in front of the piece of furniture.

Ruth put the tray on the table, then circumvented the armchair and approached the man from the fore. She crouched beside him and said, smiling softly, "Good morning, Percy! How did you sleep? I hope well enough."

Percy didn't respond. He never did. In such advanced catatonia, that was exactly what she could expect. When she had begun to work with him, she had been hoping that maybe one day he'd reply to her greeting. Yet, days had passed and his state had been all the same; well, there was some progress, as at one time she had found Percy clad in fresh briefs she had left for him on the table the day before. She had spoken to her colleagues and every single one of them had denied helping him in dressing up. She had concluded he must had done this on his own. Indeed, that was the truth, as since that day she had been founding him dressed in his underpants every time she had visited him in the morn; dressed in his underpants and sitting in his armchair. It was a gift from the governor, who was his uncle or someone else related to him somehow. She didn't know for sure; no one had ever told her, and she didn't plan to ask.

"Come on, Percy, time for a shower," she said the way one speaks to a child and rose. "Now get up, boy, will ya?"

It was like magic. At the word 'shower', Percy got up as well and directed his footsteps to the door; not to the entrance to the room, though, but to the other door, next to the table. He opened it and entered his private bathroom, another 'gift' from the governor. He got undressed there, at least that was what Ruth was hoping, and soon she could hear sound of water running through shower head.

The woman smiled weakly and turned her face towards the huge window overlooking the main gate of the facility. Percy could truly see everything looking through this window. Even the administrator didn't have a better view. From Percy's room, Ruth could see anyone coming in or out; besides, the window was located at the western wall of the building and the setting sun was visible from it every evening.

After these thoughts, she uttered a deep sigh. Percy wasn't be able to see anything through this window. He had never been and he wouldn't be until the end of his days. That was what she had eavesdropped when she was passing by the administrator's office the day Percy Wetmore had arrived at Briar Ridge. Of course, at first she hadn't been able to believe it. Yet it had been almost three years and Percy still hadn't spoken a single word. She would never hear his voice...

Ruth shook her head and walked to the table. She grabbed the bowl and placed it on the tabletop, and then she did the same with the glass and the spoon. She arranged them elegantly, just as in a classy restaurant somewhere in New York or Los Angeles. Then she put the vase with the flower in the middle of the table. She smiled. Finally, she withdrew a small, black notebook from her frock and flicked through it. Next she brought out a pencil and started to sketch something on the margin; she didn't even know what. She just had a sudden need to do something to make her hands busy. She stepped back and sat down on Percy's bed, still smearing something on the paper. She closed her eyes and carried on. She certainly had soul of an artist. She could just sit and draw for entire day. And she knew her works were good. Her art teacher had always been telling her she should become an artist. Once, she had even received an interesting proposal from mayor, a local patron of painters and sculptors, yet she turned down the offer. Maybe she had considered herself as an artist, though it hadn't meant that had been the way she had wanted to earn her living.

Well, working in Briar Ridge Mental Hospital as a nurse wasn't the acme of her dreams either.

In that moment Percy came out. Ruth breathed a sigh of relief – second one that morning – seeing that Percy's briefs were still clean and dry. Meanwhile, he directed his footsteps towards his armchair but the nurse got in his way.

"Whoa, slow it down, cowboy!" she put her palms on his both shoulders and smiled. "First I need to dress you up and then you'll have to eat your breakfast."

After those words, she turned the man around and started to gently push him towards the bed, where his fresh clothes were already lying. She stopped beside the piece of furniture, reached a white gown and outfit her patient in it. Then she took a pair of pants and helped Percy to put his legs in them, finally zipping them up after several long seconds. Next moment, she led the man to the table and helped him to sit down on one of the chairs. The woman sat opposite him.

"All right, Percy. Now eat your oatmeal, will ya?"

He didn't move a muscle.

"Oh, come on, Percy! Please, eat your oatmeal."

The man remained still. Ruth sighed. Usually he was able to eat on his own. Sometimes though, there were days when her patient wasn't able to lift the spoon up to his mouth, and all signs in the sky and on the earth indicated that was one of those worse days.

The woman moved her chair closer and grabbed the spoon. She scooped some oatmeal and heaved a piece of silverware to Percy's mouth. Luckily, he opened it without protesting and swallowed the content of the spoon. She smiled and repeated the procedure, and then she did it again and again.

When the bowl was finally empty, Ruth took a napkin from the tray and wiped Percy's lips with it. "Okay, boy," she said, "now you can go and have a sit in this armchair of yours."

The man rose and slowly walked to the piece of furniture. Then he flopped down on it and started to stare in the space in front of him just as he had been when she had come in for the first time that morning.

The woman bit her lower lip and approached the man; slowly, with hesitance. She crouched by him and leant her left arm against elbow-rest. Then she placed her gaze at Percy and uttered a deep sigh, shaking her head. She closed her eyes, letting her thoughts fly away from this bleak building, full of insane people on the both sides of steel-clad door. It wasn't the first time Ruth had done something like that. And every single time, lowering her eyelids, she kept hoping that one day, she would be able to find hidden entry to Percy Wetmore's mind. It wasn't like she wanted to become mad; nothing like that. She was simply curious how a man like him saw the world. The doctors said he could see nothing at all but after meeting Percy Wetmore – if one could call taking up babysitting him that way – she had begun to have her own view about this matter. Maybe because she was a nurse who had contact with patients every single day; who could watch them and learn their behavior. Sometimes even family members could't do that, disgusted by their former parents, children, spouses. A nurse was always able to see past their shells of illness and truly perceive human beings inside, though. Perhaps because there was no place for disgust in her profession.

A screech of opening door interrupted her thoughts. Ruth turned her face towards the entrance to the room, where she found Emily Cane, a mature-looking woman with puffy, red eyes and blank look on her face, eminently pale for someone living here in Louisiana.

"What are you doing, Ruth?" she asked in reproof. "Shouldn't you take care of your patient rather than dreaming at work?"

Emily was the most malicious nurse in Briar Ridge. She enjoyed harassing new employees, especially young, unexperienced girls from farming families, just like Ruth's. Despite the fact Ruth was no longer new here, Emily had had it in for her and she kept saying waspish remarks whenever she could.

"Actually, Emily," the girl rose and stepped towards the other woman. "I've done everything what I ought to have done." she smiled and gazed into cold grey ice of the nurse.

"Oh, I'm afraid there's something left for you to do," a smirk appeared on Emily's thin lips. "Your patient is going to have a visitor. You have to take care of his hair, just as you promised a while ago." with those words she threw the young girl a comb and a small, orange tin of Murray's Pomade. Somehow Ruth managed to catch both at once. Emily gave her a crooked smile. "Be ready in the next thirty minutes," she finished, turned around and disappeared behind the door.

The nurse was still a bit stunned when she began to brush Percy's hair. She couldn't believe he was actually going to have a visitor. He rarely had them. His mother had visited him once or twice only, and once a larger group had paid him a visit. There had been five of them: four men and a woman; a very beautiful woman in advanced pregnancy. At first Ruth had thought it was Percy's girl, pregnant with his child, and wave of anger overwhelmed her like river during flood. Later on she had learned that she hadn't been in any relation with him; even more – she had been carrying somebody else's child; actually, a child of one of her companions. But it didn't really matter that day. It wasn't her duty to worry about Percy's visitors. Her duty was to take care of his hair.

On her very first visit, his mother had told her that Percy had always been wild about his hair. He had loved to brush it every five minutes, so he had used to carry a small comb with him everywhere. To boot, every single day he had done his hair using his favorite Murray's Pomade. When the old lady had started to break down, in a fit of emotions Ruth had promised her she would take care of her son's hair and cherish it from time to time. As she had always been a doer, not only talker, she had kept her promise.

Now she was truly glad she had a chance to touch Percy's hair. It was fine, thick, dark hair; very silky and smooth. It was a real pleasure for her to put her fingers in it and revel in its softness. She had no doubt Percy must had been very proud of them.

As she started to apply the pomade, she realized she hadn't spoken a word to her patient since she had began doing his hair. She felt guilty for it, but somehow she didn't wish to speak then. It was odd. She had usually enjoyed talking to Percy at any occasion, but not then. That scared her off a bit, yet she continued without stopping.

"All righty, Percy. Your hair looks perfect now. You're ready to meet with your visitor."

After these words something happened inside her. She didn't know what, but she knew what she needed to do. She slowly approached the man from the front and squatted beside him, so their face were on the same level. Their noses were almost touching. She gazed deeply inside his hazel eyes, then she gently caressed his cheek. He was still staring numbly in the space ahead of him. Ruth bit her lip. "Percy," she began. "Percy Wetmore." Her whisper could be hardly heard. "Look at me, Percy. Look at me. Notice me. I am here, right in front of you. For you. I..."

That moment, she noticed a slight movement of his eyes. For a split second, he placed his gaze on her, just to continue staring ahead. That moment, Ruth could keep this inside no longer. With tears in her eyes, she touched Percy's lip with hers, and began to move them, still caressing his face. She closed her eyes, and felt like the world stopped spinning. All that time, she had wanted to do that. And she was finally doing it. She was kissing Percy Wetmore. Of course, she knew that anyone could enter the room now and see her. She would be fired for sure. But she didn't really care. All that mattered for her that time, was Percy Wetmore and his fine, soft hair.

When she eventually moved back, she was breathing heavily. She looked at Percy, confident she was going to finally see some sort of expression on his face. To her despair, it was still the same shell of an ill man. Suddenly she wanted to cry. She wanted it so badly. But her eyes were as dry as soil in Louisiana; they couldn't utter even a drop.

"Shit," said Ruth, rising swiftly and beginning her pace around the room, her arms crossed. "Shit, shit, shit..." She sighed. She was wrong. She had been wrong all the time and the doctors had been right all the time. Percy was indeed a shell only. A numb husk, keeping up appearances of human being. A plant with no emotions; vegetating, not living for real.

She took a glance at her watch. It was time to go. Before she left, she picked up her notebook left on the table. She looked at the last page and saw portrait of Percy Wetmore, smiling to her, with shining eyes and silky hair. She touched the sketch and with one quick move ripped it to shreds. The small pieces of paper fell down to the floor. She crouched, picked them up and hid them in one of her pockets. Then she took the last glance at Percy, sitting in his armchair and left, wondering who could she borrow a typewriter from and preparing the body of her resignation.


End file.
